jornales

for a moment of joy or moments no one pays for, i give myself a ‘jornal’. this makes me rich. try it.

random seasons, a haiku/senryu series

stone wall

mottled hands escaping

through air

 

ham flavor

hangs about her sweater

hospice weekend

 

though touch-less

the intimate rustle of silk

 

fall

dog buries

bruises

 

hobbling out of my midnight winter moon

 

apple core

how to bottle

memories

 

a tiger

musing on my eye

autumn dusk

 

chopped beets

i wash the knife

of traces

 

open page

an opaque scent

in his bath water

 

oak stump–

i remember the hornets

last summer

 

shell shards

on a paint roller

a womb

 

November 25, 2014 Posted by | haiku, poetry, senryu | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

transmutation (for One Shoot Sunday)

Photo prompt by Adam Romanowicz.

trapped in a shell
of dreams, the night careens
into an abyss–
the paradise of mollusks
unknown to stars

alien, Night
drowns in crystal tears
engorging shell hearts
layering an encrusted
stone

the sea lashes
the mollusks and turns
Night into strands
of sea spray
Night, the alien

grows eyes
globules of crystals
floating as froth
a veil to hide the birthing
mollusks

Night, the witness
in paradise becomes the sea
as heaving shells open
to let breathe the pearl
they birth

startled
in the blinding brightness
Night leaps and grows wings
springing off its eyes
jewels of sparks

an ocean breath
exhales Night back to dying stars
Night, the prodigal
now smithereens of tears
rain on cupped leaves

frozen as
bejeweled Dawn
on leaf strands
en-clasped like it were
its heart

a shell

Composed from a photo prompt by Adam Romanowicz and
posted for One Shoot Sunday at One Stop Poetry, the inimitable gathering place for poets and artists. Come immerse yourself, better yet share your work and your ideas about others’. Check us out!

June 26, 2011 Posted by | free verse, lyric poetry, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Light as magic (for One Shot Wednesday)

The essence of magic is light
says the puppeteer to me as I peer
through his box of a stage
yet but a shell of trash—
limp pieces of strings,
sleeping snakes of light cords,
tubs of light shades, the puppets
mere swaths of rags.

Life moves only where
there is light, he seems to chant,
invoking magic from his words. In the myth
of creation, God first bid Light with words and Light
burst into rays like wings or so the puppeteer
imagines.

You can ride on light,
the universe does, speeding and crashing
on taut streams of translucence. I can transform you
into a nymph under these lights,
the puppeteer turns
to me, sensing my longing.

Could I grow into wings if
I wish
and vanish in the light? I ask. Or
like my puppets be born
and live if only for a fraction
of light, he answers grinning. I hesitate
but then, step in to his box of a stage among scraps of life
and give in.

Copyright © by Alegria Imperial, 2006
My first published poem featured at http://www.winningwriters.com and critiqued by its editor, Jendi Reiter, December 2006

Posted for One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry, winner of the 2011 Shorty Award for Art. Check us out or better yet, join members of this gathering place and share your love for your art among some of the most talented poets and artists ever.

April 6, 2011 Posted by | free verse, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments